


All the Pretty Little Horses

by Polkahotness



Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: Childhood Memories, Family, Family Feels, Love, Memories, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29084163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polkahotness/pseuds/Polkahotness
Summary: As Lila puts her daughter to bed, the mysterious carousel music box that sits on her nightstand brings back memories she had long since repressed-memories of her mother and the magic of a simple melody.
Relationships: Stinky Peterson/Lila Sawyer
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	All the Pretty Little Horses

The music box sat on her nightside table. While I put it there as a comfort to my sweet Daisy, I just couldn't muster the courage it took to wind up the key at the base and allow the melody I knew so well to flood her room.

I wanted to. Just _ever_ so much.

But I was afraid of the memories.

Ribbons and flowers were molded onto the carousel that held three horses who hadn't moved in decades. Over the years, one of the horses had lost a leg—perhaps from one of our many moves before Stinky and I settled in on our farm just outside the city.

My eyes gravitated to the music box; my heart filling with memories I just couldn't bear to face. It was such a charming music box, even despite the flaws from years past. It was just oh so beautiful…

" _It's just oh so beautiful!" I chirped as my fingers danced over the intricacies of the carousel. Vibrant pinks and purples colored the stand that held three white horses detailed with golden paint that shimmered underneath the light of my bedside lamp._

" _I knew you'd like it," mother said with a smile lining her lips. "I've been saving it to give you until I thought you old enough to appreciate it."_

_At six years old, I was certainly one of the more mature children in my age bracket. I was quiet, of course, however I enjoyed the simple things in life—something my mother had taught me from birth. I was just oh so certain that my mother's carefree attitude had influenced me to be as such._

" _I do, mother," I exclaimed while delicately holding the heavy carousel in my small hands. "I do just ever so much."_

" _That's good to hear," she continued with a dash of excitement flitting across her gaze, "because this is a_ magic _music box."_

" _Magic?" I oohed in wonderment as my mother nodded her head. "What does it do?"_

" _Well," she began before leaning over to rest next to me on the bed, "this music box_ ensures _good dreams."_

_Looking in her direction with heavy skepticism, I gave her a small frown. "Silly mother. This can't stop nightmares—"_

" _Oh yes, it can!" she insisted before motioning an 'x' over her chest while saying, "Cross my heart and hope to die."_

_My eyes returned to look at the horses on their golden posts. "How?"_

" _The song it plays… it sends you_ right _to dreamland," she said assuredly. "No stops in nightmareville. Do you know how I know?"_

" _How?" I repeated with curiosity this time._

" _The song it plays has special lyrics that fight away any mean thoughts that try to take over your dreams," she explained._

" _What are the words?" I practically demanded as she laughed while leaning up from where she half-lay on my bed to sit upright in her chair._

" _Uh, uh, uh," she said softly, "I believe that my Lovely Lila will just have to wait until I sing them after our story." Reaching over to the small bookshelf just passed the bedside table, my mother picked up a familiar book of nursery rhymes she would read each night to help soothe me to sleep._

_Carefully opening the book to where a piece of string held where we had left off, she took in a deep breath. "Are you ready, honeybee?'_

" _Buzz, buzz!" I laughed out as mother smiled back at me._

BUZZ BUZZ

I glanced down at my phone which sat in my lap and pulled it up to my face where a message flashed on the screen.

 **My Sweetie: **I'm stuck in the barn for the night. Martha's having her foal if you wanna come out when Daisy's asleep.

"That daddy?" Daisy managed before a big yawn engulfed our small child.

Leaning over to tuck her blankets tightly around her, I then draped the hand-maid quilt that had been given to Stinky and I for our wedding from his Aunt Mable. She had long since passed, but Daisy loved the intricate patterns and colors so much that she had inherited the quilt a few years back.

"It was," I answered with a soft smile. "Martha is having her baby."

Shooting up to a seated position, Daisy grinned with excitement. "Oh, can we go watch mama?" she pleaded while holding her hands up to clasp them in front of her chest. "Please, mama, please? I'll be extra good, I promise."

"Daisy-Cakes," I sympathized while setting my hand atop her curly auburn hair, "I'm afraid it's bedtime. You can meet her baby tomorrow, I promise."

"Can I name her?" she answered back as another yawn took over her tiny body.

"Of course, you can," I cooed. "What will you name it?"

"Well…" she dragged out the word as her eyes looked upward in thought. "If it's a boy, Abe, after Uncle Abe."

The hint of a laugh emitted from me as I nodded my head. "I'm certain that that's just a _wonderful_ name for a boy. What if it's a girl?"

I leaned over in my chair next to her bed to take the book that sat upright against the wood of her nightstand. Pulling it to my lap, Daisy answered without pause.

"Annabelle."

" _I'll name this one Annabelle," I proudly announced while pointing to the first of the three white horses that made up the carousel. "And this one can be Harriet. And this one will be—"_

" _They're all girls?" Mother questioned before taking the music box from my hands to place on the countertop of my nightstand._

" _Well, they're all so pretty!" I replied back happily. "They're just ever so pretty—"_

" _Little bumble," she addressed me with an almost sad face, "_ all _of the world is pretty—even boys."_

_My childish features scrunched into an almost disgusted face. "Really?"_

_Mother let out a giggle as she nodded her head. "Of course, Lila. All of God's creatures, male, female, and in between are pretty. Just as the flowers are the trees. The barn cats are the purebreds." Her hand moved to take my nose lightly in her grip as she gave it a small wiggle. "My bumble as Johnny from next door."_

_My joyous expression faded to one of dismay. "He's such an awful boy, mother," I countered while crossing my arms and sitting upright in my bed. "He's so mean to me. Just ever so mean."_

" _I know, honey, but he'll grow up. All boys grow up one day," she told me before looking passed her shoulder to the door of my bedroom with a fondness taking over her features. "Your father used to be one, you know."_

" _A mean boy?"_

_She laughed while returning her face to meet mine. "I didn't know your father when he was young, but I'm sure he had some growing up to do. Just like Johnny. Just like most boys your age."_

" _I'm sure that I'll never like a boy," I declared with a shake of my head. "Never, ever,_ never _."_

" _Oh, I'm not so certain that's a promise you can keep, little bumble." There was humor in her tone—a skeptical amusement at my six-year-old prophesy. "I'm sure that one day you'll meet a wonderful boy who will make you feel giddy and it will be_ you _who gives birth to a baby. Just like our Mable did this morning."_

_Still unsure of my mother's claims, I rested my head back on the pillow as a yawn escaped my tired body._

" _Mother?"_

"Mama?" Daisy's voice pulled me from my thoughts as I turned to look where she lay ready for the story that would usher her to sleep.

"Hmm?" I hummed with a slight tilt of my head.

"I don't want to hear a story tonight," she told me firmly; a frown overtaking me.

"You—you _don't_?" I asked, completely taken aback by her statement.

Shaking her head, she turned to lay on her side while facing me; her eyes gravitating to the carousel I had once cherished more than any other worldly possession. Countless nights it sang me to sleep; the haunting melody filling my dreams with colors and wonderment that astounded my young mind.

It was that melody—that poignant melody—that now flooded me with anxiety as my memory recalled the last time that I'd heard it nearly two decades ago.

" _Liane, honey," daddy called to my mother as she lay weakly in her bed. "Is there anything you need? Anything I can getchya?"_

_Tiredly she turned her head to look at where he sat just beside her, myself on the opposite side. "The… the carousel…"_

_Raising his brow in curiosity, 8-year-old me knew exactly what it was mother was asking for. "My music box?"_

_Slowly she nodded her head. "Will you… will you bring it to me, bumble?"_

_Quickly rising from my chair, I left her room to find the possession she inquired about. Picking it up from its home on my nightstand, I rushed back to her room where I presented it to her. "Do you want me to wind it up for you?"_

" _Not yet, honeybee," she managed while pushing her body up as best as she could to a somewhat seated position. Immediately rising to help her, daddy adjusted the pillows behind her to try and give her back some additional support._

_The cancer had eaten away at her now-frail frame. It had been months of watching my mother deteriorate into a shell of her former self—our bills piling up as I heard daddy grow frustrated each night while hopelessly trying to balance the checkbook. No number of treatments or money had been able to save my mother, although her optimism never faltered, her smile never drooped._

_It was something I both admired and felt confusion over._

" _Then why did you ask for it?" I couldn't help but wonder aloud._

" _For my dreams," she told me with a half-smile. "Remember…when you were younger, and I told you that this music box was magic?" She reminded me as I nodded my head slowly. "Well, baby, I want it to usher_ me _to sleep now. So,_ I _can have good dreams."_

" _But mother—" I tried, knowing exactly what she was trying to tell me._

" _Lila," her fragile voice said sternly. "You need to be strong now for me. For your father," she instructed before taking a moment to suck in some additional air besides what was provided to her nose via plastic tubing. "I don't have the breath to-to… to sing the words. You want me to pass over nightmareville, don't you?"_

 _Tears began to well in my eyes as my hands clasped themselves in front of my chest. "Just_ ever _so much…. But mother—"_

" _No more 'buts' honeybee," she declared with a small smile tugging at her cracked lips. "Will you… will you sing for me, baby? Sing me to sleep?"_

"Why don't you let me play the music box?" Daisy asked; her eyes fixed on the horses that sat still in their spots.

"Oh, Daisy," I cooed before pursing my lips. "It isn't that I won't let you, it's just—"

"But you _won't_ ," she returned in a harsh attitude unlike the little girl I'd raised her to be. "You take it away each night to your room and put it on top of the dresser so I can't reach it."

"It's fragile," I tried, but Daisy continued.

"I've never even heard the song it plays," she said sadly before turning away from me to rest on her other side. "It's not fair."

" _It's not fair, mother," I said tearfully as I held the music box tightly in my grip. "I need you. Just ever so much."_

 _Her shaky hand moved to gently rest upon my cheek; the chill of her skin nearly making me jump. "Life isn't a fair, Lila," she twisted my words to fit a new frame of mine. "But in our dreams, in dreamland, our life can be whatever we want it to be. So long as we_ get _there. So long as we don't stop in nightmareville."_

_Both daddy and I were filled with tears that overflowed onto our cheeks. The beeping of my mother's heart monitor had slowed some and our small family knew that within moments we would be even smaller than before._

" _So, please… my little honeybee—my bumble… will you sing me to dreamland?"_

I watched my daughter for a long moment as she lay in frustration facing the wall. It was true, what she'd said. I had been careful not to let the music box sing its glorious song for fear of the real-life nightmares it would dredge up in my memory. As I had forgotten from so long ago, the music box my mother had given me was _magic_. She had assured me that the lyrics I had been taught seemingly lifetimes ago would take one right to dreamland—right to where I had sang my mother to on that night that she soundly fell asleep never to awake again.

She was in dreamland.

And there were no nightmares in dreamland—not even my own.

Carefully, I reached for the music box and began winding the key at the bottom—it struggling against my grip from years of lying dormant.

 _Carefully, I began to wind the key at the bottom that my mother had done so many times before to help usher me into my_ own _dreamland._

After a moment, the chimes of the music box began to ring out and play the notes I had never forgotten. The melody filled my daughter's room just as it had filled my mother's and softly, I started to sing the lyrics my heart had been aching to sing.

"Hush-a-bye, don't you cry…"

" _Go to sleepy little baby," I sang tearfully as I held the music box in one hand, my mother's hand in the other. "When you wake, you shall have all the pretty little horses."_

"Blacks and bays," I continued while watching the carousel spin slowly; the horses bobbing up and down with the melody that played, "dapples and grays. Coach and—"

"— _six a little horses," I sniffled as my mother's fingers squeezed my hand for just a moment. Her eyes slowly fell shut; a smile resting delicately on her lips where she lay. "Hush-a-bye…"_

" _Don't you cry," mother whispered, and I finished for her._

" _Go to sleepy little baby…"_

"When you wake, you'll have cake," I swallowed hard as the music box began to slow in rhythm; Daisy turning over to look at me as I softly cried from where I sat at her bedside. "And all the pretty little horses…"

"Mama?" Daisy asked tentatively.

" _Mother?" I called out, though I knew where she was._

_She was gone._

_My mother was safely in dreamland._

"Yes, baby?" I murmured while tilting my head to look up at her.

"That's a really pretty song," she whispered before crawling from her bed to its edge and hopping down. "Can I hear it again?" she asked; her arms outstretched and reaching upwards for me.

Looking down at my small child, I remembered the girl I once was—the girl that dreamed of horses and magical lands. I remembered how difficult it had been to live without my mother, how hard my father struggled to maintain a job that would put food on our table. Multiple memories flashed across my subconscious as I looked ahead at Daisy who kept her arms wide and ready for me to whisk her up and away into my bosom.

Wiping on of the tears from my cheek, I nodded my head while picking her up to sit in my lap. "Of course, you can, Daisy," I told her while moving to wind up the music box once again; the melody coming from it stronger and more confidently than before.

"Do you want to know a secret?" I whispered in her ear as the song continued in the background.

"A secret?" She repeated in wonderment as I nodded my head and began to tell the story my own mother had told me long ago.

"This music box is special. Just oh so special," I told her with a smile. "It's special, because it's _magic…_ "

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by a little sketch that Jebbie did of a young Lila sleeping in her bed as her mother (who she named 'Liane') held a book in her lap and was leaning over to stroke her head.
> 
> All at once, this idea came to me and I literally woke up and had to write it out. Sorry if it inadvertently sucks or something… I wrote it pretty fast but I really like it. Also… sorry it's sad?
> 
> Please review!
> 
> -Polka


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